


Options

by xCake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi, Polyamory, Red Room references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xCake/pseuds/xCake
Summary: The three of you had never discussed it, but the writing was on the wall. Steve and Bucky knew what you wanted, because it was what they wanted, too.A family.[ Steve x Reader x Bucky ]





	Options

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Anon: Could I get a Bucky/Steve or Bucky + Steve work based on “Love Me or Leave Me” or “Three Empty Words”? Dealer’s choices.
> 
> Here we go! I used [Love Me or Leave Me](https://open.spotify.com/track/4tesyAIwZLr6nm8UVNanlh?si=OVSPBNEPRHu8UMzBi9dgRg) as inspiration. Enjoy!

There was a certain time of the year that always put you on edge.

November.

You’d spent it strapped to a cold hospital bed at the tender age of twenty, courtesy of the Red Room.

Steve knew the date by heart. You’d told him once in a moment of weakness. It wasn’t something you liked to talk about, and aside from that one time, you never, ever spoke of it again. Not with him, and not with Bucky.

Bucky didn’t know the exact date, but then again, you never shared it with him. It wasn’t that you kept it from him on purpose; you loved them both equally, him and Steve, but you never told either of them what had happened. You could never bring yourself to.

[[MORE]]

All they knew was that it involved the Red Room, but they could hazard a guess at what it was. Natasha had told them enough, and the scars on your abdomen made sense of the rest. They never pried.

There were signs that the two of them started to look for around this time of year. Sometimes Bucky would find you at home, crying into the sheets of your shared bed and Steve would motion for him to leave you be, as torturous as it was for them both to leave you feeling so miserable. Instead, the two of them would share a bottle of whiskey in the living room while your sobs echoed through the small apartment the three of you shared. It was always the same. No conversation, just the bitter taste of liquor and misery.

Other times, you were too quick to anger, too impulsive, too destructive. Aside from the risky, dangerous decisions you made out in the field around this time of year that drove your boys up a fucking wall – and oh, how you argued afterwards – it spilled over into your home lives, too.

Once, you screamed at them and threw every single plate in the kitchen at the wall. You played it up like you were actually aiming for them, but you weren’t, and they knew it, too. Your aim was impeccable. It was painfully obvious that you were lashing out because of what you couldn’t do, what was missing, what had been stolen from you. You only managed to take about two steps through the broken glass in bare feet before Bucky swept you up into his arms and pressed kisses to your face, your forehead, the sweet spot behind your ear, telling you not to be so stupid, he loves you, they love you, _Christ,_ they love you more than anything—

While Steve tended to the cuts on your feet. He cleaned them and bandaged them with all the love and care in the world, and when he was done, he kissed his way up your legs, to your thighs, and when Bucky lay you down so gently on the bed, Steve worshipped you with his mouth and Bucky kissed the breath out of you until you forgot why you’d been so upset to begin with.

It was a temporary fix, but it held you together. For a while.

Every year, you seemed to break just a little bit more.

You’d been so blissfully happy with them once. You always loved the way Steve was so brutally honest about his feelings for you. He told you how much he loved you and cherished every single part of you, even the horrors of your past, the things you’d been forced to do. You loved how he stroked your hair and admitted that he could imagine having a life with you – with both of you.

Bucky wasn’t nearly as open with his feelings, but he didn’t need to be. He let his guard down around you, shared things about himself and his past that he’d never spoken aloud – let you kiss him and touch him despite how downright scared as he was to be treated so kindly. You and Steve had broken down his walls, but they’d never been able to break down yours.

They were both so happy with you once, too. Your relationship had always been a chaotic mess, but it worked. You cooked. Steve cleaned. Bucky did laundry. It was sweet and domestic, and for a while, it worked. The three of you just _worked._

The longer you were together, though, it became more and more apparent that you’d never be able to give them what they really wanted: a family. Maybe not now, but that was where things were heading. The writing was on the wall. You could read it plain as day.

On some particularly passionate nights, Steve would whisper into your ear that he needed to fill you up, and true to his word, he’d leave you absolutely filled to the brim with his cum. Bucky didn’t say it aloud, but his actions said enough: he made sure that whenever he came, it was inside you, and every time, he held himself there just a little longer.

You knew what they wanted, but you couldn’t give it to them.

You still loved them. Of course you did. You loved them entirely too much.

When November came around again, they returned from a mission to find that you’d left without a trace. You left them to find what they so desperately wanted, but couldn’t have with you. There were plenty of other willing women and, considering who they were – Avengers – you knew that they’d have quite a selection to choose from. They’d be fine.

Except they weren’t. Not at all.

You didn’t get far. Tennessee. Your plan was to lay low in the mountains while you figured out a game plan. It wasn’t like you to be so impulsive and your mind was screaming at you to go back, to stop this, you were being stupid, you were giving up the only shred of happiness in your miserable existence – but you pushed on anyway because you were too ruined to be fixed.

You couldn’t give Steve and Bucky what they wanted – what you’d also started to want so badly with them. For a long time, it never used to bother you, at least until you found the two of them. Then you realized what was missing.

How could you expect them to stay with you? Why would they even _want_ to? To be with you was a fate they’d never willingly choose, and you’d only hold them back. 

It took just two nights before they managed to locate you in a little log cabin in the woods. You’d gone out to fetch some firewood, and when you returned, your boys were there.

They were _there_ and your resolve shattered the moment you saw them. Broken apologies spilled from your lips just as easily as the tears rolled down your cheeks, “I’m—I’m sorry—”

Steve caught you in his arms just as your knees gave out.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be sorry,” Steve spoke to you so gently that you felt like your heart might burst. His arms were a welcome weight around your waist, and he slouched down to hold you tight against him, your chin coming to rest in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “You never have to be sorry.”

Bucky’s metal hand was a welcome chill against your cheek, and he gently turned your face to look at him, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheekbone. Those lovely pale blue eyes were full of anger, hurt, and betrayal – but primarily relief.

They found you.

_They found you._

“Don’t do that again,” Bucky told you, but his voice wavered just slightly on the words. It wasn’t an order, or even a request. It was a plea.

_Don’t leave me again._

“I won’t,” you croaked, hot tears streaming down your face. “I love you. Both of you. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s eyes softened, then, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead just before Steve lifted you into his arms. They’d never been here before, but it was easy enough to find the bedroom – not that either of them intended to do anything but spend time with you. Time was precious, fleeting, and no one knew that better than the two of them.

Steve threaded his fingers through your hair as you lay your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Bucky spooned you from behind, one of his hands tracing delicate patterns up and down your side and across your stomach. 

That was always how it started. Sweet. Gentle. Loving.

It always finished in the exact opposite way: hair mussed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen; your body trapped between theirs, slick with sweat and saliva and pure, unbridled ecstasy. Your boys never failed to make a mess of you, and this night was no different.

Except it _was_ different. 

You could feel the desperation in Bucky’s kisses, the longing in Steve’s caresses – for you, and only you. Not for what you couldn’t provide.

The next morning, the three of you sat on the sofa together, sipping on hot cups of coffee. It was casual and comfortable, just like always, like you hadn’t spent the last few days running away – but they knew why. They’d known for awhile, really, but neither of them knew how to bring it up. It was too sensitive a topic and the last thing they wanted to do was upset you.

The fact that you left them because of it was what sparked the conversation. Bucky slung his warm arm around your shoulders as Steve held a file out to you. 

“There are options,” Steve said softly as you accepted the file. Bucky immediately felt you tense at the unspoken subject – but then, as you flicked through the pages, you noticeably began to relax.

Adoption.

Surrogacy.

There _were_ options.

The three of you had never discussed it, but the writing was on the wall. Steve and Bucky could read it just as well as you. They knew what you wanted, because it was what they wanted, too.

A family.


End file.
